


But, I love you

by alittlemayhem



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst and Feels, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Bottom Sakusa Kiyoomi, Comedy, Developing Relationship, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Hopeful Ending, Horny but you don't want to be, I'm Sorry, M/M, Murder, Past Sakusa Kiyoomi/ Ushijima Wakatoshi, Psychological Drama, Serial Killers, Stalking, Top Miya Atsumu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:55:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27570379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alittlemayhem/pseuds/alittlemayhem
Summary: The hands reach and constrict around his throat. His breath becomes thin, his eyesight wavering.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 123
Kudos: 163





	1. Sunday

**Author's Note:**

> This is a passion project for me. So I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Thanks to my lovely beta readers Jordan (@/ u_suspend) and Ren (@/ bokutowl12) on twitter!
> 
> Please note! Any depiction of mental illness stemming from anxiety to touch aversion is based off my real life, diagnosed, afflictions. I am in no way intending to belittle him as just the disorders, please keep this in mind moving forward. Thank you.

Coffee at the 7/11, and then take the rail to work. 

Walk two minutes from the station. 

38 steps from the red line to the orange dotted line.

Greet the crossing guard with a smile and head in. 

Sit down in his cubicle and start the day. 

This is Sakusa Kiyoomi’s weekday morning ritual. 

The cadence of keyboards and the soft monotonous phone ringing are the soundtracks to his lifestyle.

* * *

Sunday, the speakers are playing a jazz song. Sakusa taps his foot to the rhythm, humming in harmony and swaying to the beat. Outside, the streets are lively and bright. The day is hot and slightly humid and rolling clouds provide fleeting bits of shelter from the harsh rays of the sun. The crosswalk is teeming with life and a small cat is an onlooker to the melancholy of human existence.

The tea kettle sings in the background. The blinds are drawn, but slivers of light cascade through the slits and illuminate the room. Sprinkles of dust float around and reflect bits of light. Carving into the meat on the table before him, he separates the individual pieces into smaller groups for easy handling. A smile spreads across his lips. The pots on the stove are boiling, aerating a citrus scent throughout the room. 

Excitement runs through his veins. Whilst the song reaches its climax, the edge of his blade catches on bone, and the hilt jerks sharply in his hand. He takes a second swing and this time slices through to the other side with a satisfying snap. Gore splatters onto his mask, making him wrench away in disgust.

Placing the cleaver down he heads towards the sink and peels off the worn, black, latex gloves, depositing them into a garbage bag. Pumping his hands full of citrus-scented soap he lathers them and ceremoniously begins his rinse cycle. 

Drying his hands off with a towel, he rips the mask off and tosses it into the bag with the gloves to be disposed of once he’s finished. He meanders back towards a stash of belongings, sifting through the wallet until he finds what he’s looking for and pulls out an ID card.

“Sato, Jin. Age 45.”

He shuffles further through the wallet and withdraws a business card. The cardstock is worn and warped, the text barely legible. 

“Oh, a real estate agent.”

In the jacket, he finds advertisements for local fun houses and brothels. Multicolored advertisements litter the pages with obnoxious red circles around many, signaling the preference of this Mr. Sato. 

“A real stand up guy you were, huh?” 

Looking up at the body, now in pieces, Sakusa is happy to not hear a response. The music continues in the background and he taps his fingers to the beat as he continues.

“Maybe if you would have worn a mask and not sneezed directly into my coffee you would be hanging out with the whores tonight.” 

He hears shuffling outside of his window. A shadow jumps out of the corner of his eye. In a swift, practiced motion he pops open the edge of his blinds, peering out into the contrasting environment. His gaze is returned by those of a cat. 

_What was he thinking? It’s the second-floor balcony, what else could it be?_

Dropping the blind he returns to the task at hand. _Curry for dinner sounds good too._

* * *

There it is, that feeling again. Sakusa looks over his shoulder, depositing his fifth bag of trash into this fifth new corresponding waste receptacle. He’s not alone. He can _feel_ something or someone nearby. Unceremoniously, he regains his bearings and heads back towards his neighborhood. 

It’s been weeks and he can’t shake the feeling that he’s being watched. The sensation crawling between his shoulder blades prick at the nape of his neck. _It burns._ Depositing a thick glob of hand sanitizer onto his palm, he rubs it in aggressively while looking around at the quiet street. The dark outline of the city engulfs him, lending some sense of privacy and yet the noises are still calling. The hands reach and constrict around his throat. His breath becomes thin, his eyesight wavering. Something is _watching._

Stumbling into his apartment and heading to the shower to wash the night away, he can’t help but feel the weight of eyes following his every move. Stepping in the sting of the hot water is a welcoming feeling and slowly his body relaxes, his mind following suit.

Climbing into his bed, he shoos his dog away so he has space to lie down. He huffs a breath and settles in for the night, and the passing riff-raff of cars and pedestrians lull his mind to a state of stupor. 

*Click-click*

His eyes fly open.

_Not again, no._

The sounds, they were back. Sakusa has been having episodes like this for a month now. His ability to sleep soundly has been deteriorating at a rapid pace, impacting his day to day with increasing frequency. 

_What is it?_

Grabbing at his comforter he takes a deep breath, attempting to swallow away the anxiety. He shuts his eyes tight.

_Who is it?_

_Why me?_

*Click-click*

_It’s all in my fucking head._

_What am I afraid of, I kill people for fucks sake!_

_The cops?_

Lost in his thoughts, Sakusa eventually passes out due to fatigue. His mind reboots in an attempt to be ready for the impending workweek.

* * *

The door pings.

“Welcome to 7/11, thank ya for yer patronage.” 

It’s midnight and the only things open are convenience stores. Atsumu is counting the same number of dots in the ceiling for the thousandth time when a tall man comes barrelling towards the counter. Looking up, he’s surprised to see the stranger is ghostly pale, his eyes sunken in and sweat starting to darken his clothes. 

_What the hell?_

“Hi, how can I help ya?”

There is no response, the man reaches into his jacket and pulls out some money. Slamming it on the counter, he grabs a pack of masks and heads out the door. The door swings shut and the man slinks into the night,the streetlights barely illuminating his figure as he recedes from view. 

“Hey- Wait!”

It’s too late. He glances down, expecting to be paying for the masks out of his own pocket, only to see the yen rolling on the counter. Exact change. _Interesting._ Entering the code into the register he places the money in the tray and slides it shut. His eyes are drawn to the ground as glints of red reflect off the tile where the stranger had just been standing moments before.

_Is that blood? Goddamnit, gotta’ mop that shit now._

The man surprisingly comes more often than expected after that first visit. Maybe he’s always been coming here and Atsumu had just never taken notice. But how could he forget? The man was a walking painting. He belonged on display in the Louvre. 

Bold dark green eyes, paired with heaps of curly midnight hair is a lethal combination. Long slender fingers. A build that could rival even the best athletes. Height towering above those around him. 

His face continuously shielded with that trademark face mask. Atsumu has only seen him take it off when he sipped his coffee, and every time it is a treat. Soft lips pressed to the edge of the cup, pursing when the hot liquid reaches them. 

Like clockwork, Atsumu would wait for his secret adonis to visit him. He makes sure his favorite masks and hand sanitizer are never out of stock. 

_Who is this man?_

_Yer a pretty one huh?_

_Ya have any social media accounts?_

_What do ya do on yer off days?_

_What do ya like?_

_OH?_

How he didn’t have flocks of suitors groveling at his feet intrigued Atsumu. It was always at the forefront of his thoughts when this man appeared before him, until he found out why. He was faking. 

_Yer a serial killer…_

* * *

The door of his apartment jiggles open. Stepping into the cramped space he removes his shoes, dropping them at his genkan. The dim light of the kitchen illuminates the room slightly and the smell of day-old delivery food and stale cardboard threaten to overwhelm him. The floorboards beneath his shifting feet creak loudly in protest. 

_I need to get out of this shithole._

He slaps the light switch and the room erupts into view. The flickering gives his eyes a moment to adjust to the view. Piles of papers, photos, and belongings are strewn amongst the floor, plastered over what little furniture there is. Labels dating from 2017 to 2020 are an apparent attempt at organizing the chaos. 

Shuffling towards his computer he passes a wall lined with several long-distance photos, the focus of each seemingly unaware that they were being watched. The rustling of paper beneath his feet does little to deter his stride. He fishes a small USB from his pocket while his computer is booting up. The screen bursts to life in a flash of light and color. Inserting the drive, he smiles when the files finally appear on the screen. Image after image flood the monitor. 

An unsuspecting figure is photographed doing monotonous tasks. Walking his dog, riding the train, ordering coffee. The man is completely unaware and his face is worry-free, almost angelic in nature. The photos seem to document his daily lifestyle and each photo is more intimate than the last. The last photo loads and the man on the screen is stepping out of the shower, dark curls hanging wetly around his face. He’s clad in nothing but a loose towel fitted tight around his narrow waist. The photo itself is grainy, almost as if it was taken through a metal screen. 

A lazy grin stretches across Atsumu’s face and his fingers reach out to touch the image. The cool glass fogs from his warm touch. 

“Oh, Omi-kun.”

“Yer so pretty.”

* * *

Sakusa knows that routines are normal. He is normal.

He’s got a steady income from a nice job. 

A social life.

People who he can interact with normally.

His morning jog with his dog is another part of the facade.

So like clockwork, 7 a.m. rolls around and he pops out of his building and makes his way to the nearest park, Masumi in tow. His neon-colored tracksuit made him a sight for sore eyes and yet inconspicuous at the same time. Just another jogger out on a morning walk with his dog, nothing to see here.

The early morning dew kisses his lips as he makes his way down the sidewalk. Early risers are out and about, but there are not nearly as many people as there will be in 30 minutes. Stopping to let Masumi sniff other pedestrians and the occasional bench, he is constantly aware of his surroundings, trying to be surreptitious as he glances up from his dog. He’s been conscious of another presence ever since he discovered his mailbox was tampered with. 

It was putting him on edge. Feeling the bile rise up behind his smile, he decides to cut the jog short and opt for some meditation at home. 

Rounding the corner back towards his apartment he notices a small moving truck in front of his complex gates. _A new tenant?_

Steadying his grip on the leash he prepares for the lunge of excitement from Masumi. The crunch of gravel beneath his shoes grinds on his already frazzled nerves. He takes even strides towards the gate with a small hope that whoever is moving in is not currently present.

His worries are confirmed when he comes face to back with a toned figure. Sweat is dripping from the peaks of flowy, brassy hair, his thick arms, and thighs helping him lift what seemed like a pretty heavy box. 

Taking a minute to drink in the sight, he hopes that whoever this is they can’t hear his audible gulp.

He turns to the entrance and tugs the leash in an attempt to make a quick escape. Unfortunately, the man beats him to the punch.

His voice is warm, coming from beneath the lid of his cap. 

“Hey, ya mind popping that open fer me?”

Reluctantly, Kiyoomi obliges.

“Yeah, sure.”

Propping it open with his foot, they both step in. He bows as he leaves and makes his way up the stairs. Masumi is restless and is practically dragging him back up. He hears the steps following him from behind which only adds to the ever present anxiety pressing against his skull. Stepping onto his floor he turns towards his door, the man mirroring his movement across the hall. 

_When did the neighbors move out? I thought they just moved in?_

The man balances the box between his hip and the wall as he clumsily reaches for a crumpled piece of paper in his pockets. The tight blue jeans clinging to his body no doubt put up quite the fight when trying to retrieve something one-handed. He unravels the paper and presses the code from it into the panel beside the door 

When he leans in to open the door the box drops to the ground with a loud thud, the noise jolting everyone in its presence. With a sigh, the man leans down to pick the box back up. Sakusa peeks at the sliver of skin that’s revealed when his shirt rides up. Then the man stumbles and is thrown off balance.

Crossing the small gap between them, Sakusa grabs his arm and stabilizes him before he falls on his face. The motion is quick and the release is awkward, to put it kindly.

“Hey, are you okay?”

He looks into the apartment. _Empty. Figures. What did he expect?_

“Y- Yeah m’fine. Sorry, I lost my foot there.” A small chuckle warms the atmosphere.

“It’s fine, just be more careful.”

Wiping his hands on his jeans, the man reaches out to shake his hand. Sakusa flinches. A scowl reflexively forms on his face.

“Hey looks like we’re neighbors, nice to meetya. I’m Atsumu. Miya Atsumu.”

“Yeah, looks like it. Sorry, I can’t shake your hand, but nice to meet you too. Sakusa.”

He references the leash and grip he has on his dog. The dog who is trying its damndest to grab the loose piece of tape at the very edge of the-

“Ya don’t have a first name Sakusa-kun? And what about this one?”

He reaches down, to pat her on the head, standing between the enthusiastic dog and the box.

“Kiyoomi.” He grunts pointing to himself. 

“Masumi.” 

A toothy grin shines back at him.

“KI-YO-OMI? That’s tough, ya mind if I call ya Omi-kun and Sumi-chan?”

“What?”

Before he can protest Atsumu picks up his box and steps into his apartment. The door is slowly swinging shut behind him.

“I’d offer ya some tea, but I just got here and don’t have anything out.”

The door slams shut. The tone of the lock sings. 

_What the fuck?_

Turning to head back into his apartment, Sakusa is a little stupefied at the events that just took place. His mind is full of thoughts. Swirling and colliding with each other, he comes to the conclusion that he needs a shower. Now. 

* * *

Atsumu’s knees shake. 

He didn’t think it would happen so soon. 

His panting is becoming more erratic and uneven. He can feel the burn of his cheeks, the aching in his groin. 

The box’s tape finally peels the rest of the way off, its contents spilling out onto the floor. Photos of Sakusa litter the room. He drops to his knees, relishing in the moment he was just gifted.

_Omi’s skin._

The feeling of that brief contact sent him into a state of euphoria. The spot on his arm burned with the sensation.

_So warm._

He caresses his cheek with the nearest photo, palming at his rising bulge and groaning.

“Yer so fucking pretty, Omi.”

“Can’t wait fer you to be under me.”

“Can’t wait fer you to be mine.”


	2. Peach Bellini

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A stern mouth twisted in a delicious o shape. Strong arms reaching beyond his shoulders grabbing for purchase.
> 
> "Atsumu."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya!! A couple of things:
> 
> Please note the updated tags!! :D
> 
> Any depiction of mental illness stemming from anxiety to touch aversion is based on my real life, diagnosed, afflictions. I am in no way intending to belittle him as just the disorders, please keep this in mind moving forward. Thank you.
> 
> Thanks to my lovely beta readers Jordan (@/ u_suspend) and Ren (@/ bokutowl12) on Twitter!
> 
> Please see the special thanks in the notes after the chapter!!

It’s slipping through his fingers, pooling at the sink, swirling down the drain. 

Thicker than water, but viscous enough to flow freely. 

The smell: awful. 

Looking up at himself the blotchy mirror offers no resolve to his awful mood. 

On top of his inability to sleep, his mind has been full of toned muscle and blonde hair.

One trip in the common space was the catalyst his body needed to propel him into circular, almost obsessive thoughts of his neighbor. His laugh drowned the whispers, his smile bright and warm. The air around him felt breathable and carefree. 

Best of all, he was clean. Going out of his way to meticulously wipe his mailbox before checking the contents and avoiding the handrails when climbing the steps. His new neighbor might be the only person who would understand him.

Whoever was in charge of getting the new soap for the office, however, should be fired. 

Seriously, peach bellini? They have horrible taste. 

Folding his handkerchief and neatly placing it into his pocket, Sakusa heads back to his desk. 

He looks out the window on his way back and he can’t help but catch a glimpse of a strangely recognizable individual. The baseball cap looks so familiar, and he can almost remember seeing arms like that before, but it doesn’t resonate with him much longer. 

He turns the corner receding into the fluorescent lights that encase his existence. 

Flashing a small smile to the passing coworkers he quickly makes his way back to his desk.

The clock ticks.

Resuming his work, it’s not more than 10 minutes before a bouncy tuft of orange hair invades his peripherals. Before a breath of annoyance and disdain can leave his taught lips the sunbeam opens his mouth. 

"Sakusa-san will you be joining us tonight?”

His fingers abruptly cease his barrage on the keyboard. His flow ebbed. His dark pupils crawl upwards, wrapping his glare around the young enthusiastic sun bomb he calls his coworker.

Radiating positivity and sparkling passion, his ease in life bothers Sakusa immensely. If he wasn’t such a caring and thoughtful coworker, he probably would have ignored him just the same. 

Hinata knows when not to push. They always invite him for the occasional bar crawl. Never forcing him to stay when he’s ready to leave or pushing his limits when it comes to his drink intake. 

The sound of the ticking is loud, his ears are pounding to the seconds that pass.

His eyes cast past the figure in front of him, looking at the clock he notes that the workday will be over quite soon. Thinking about his recent actions, he concludes that he (a, for all intents and purposes, normal 23-year-old) is expected to partake in the occasional night out. 

Taking all of this into account he nods. A silent agreement. His curls fall forward brushing his temples. He leaves them to idle, blocking his view of the person standing before him. A tell-tale sign that their conversation is finished.

A small cheer is returned and the man in front of him scurries to relay this information with his over gelled equally as chaotic cohort. 

Rolling his eyes, he can guess what kind of night this might become. The ticking resumes, the tempo of the workday is reset.

* * *

Sunlight breaches the linen curtains that float freely, bound only from the rod in which they sway. 

The floor is covered in papers again. Receipts line the inside of his pockets. Small boxes and electronics are strewn out over the living room. The once habitable space has transformed into a wasteland of endless concentration. 

Surrounded in the evidence of his obsessions, he sits, his face contorted to reflect his internal struggle.

Atsumu is fumbling with a set of cords when his stomach begins to growl. A heavy sigh relieves the tension in his shoulders as he readies himself to stand up.

Testing each camera to its corresponding monitor is tough work. Maybe he should order food? Stepping over the array of wires, Atsumu reaches for the menus stuck to his fridge. Peeling off a coupon for the pizza he punches the numbers and orders. Why the fuck is pizza so damn expensive nowadays? 

Peering back over his counter he saunters towards the rolled papers. His socked feet pad against the laminate flooring. Unfurling them, he peels back the sheets as they unveil the blueprints to an apartment. His eyes burn with excitement. Taking a look at his phone’s clock, he notes the time. It’s still early, and it’s the weekend so his Omi would probably be out tonight with the two dumb-dumbs. A dull sense of heat washes over him; part of it is fear, part of it is envy. 

Atsumu always felt this way about that duo. Being the only two his Omi ever allowed in his presence. Their antics inviting rare and beautiful smiles from his beloved. He longed to be the muse to Omi’s emotions.

Looking down at his fist, his knuckles bare white through the elastic skin that stretches over them. His nails press crescent moon indentations into the meat of his own palms and his wanton attitude was replaced with fervor. He grabs at a pen lying on the counter and resumes his task.

Strategically mapping out where he wanted to place certain cameras and microphones, his blueprint eventually becomes full of color. Almost a modern masterpiece if you ask him. 

The sun melts to dusk and the pizza loses its percentage when Atsumu finally is ready to put his plans into motion. 

His key turns the lock and the metal shrieks when it turns against its hinges. He pulls out some envelopes and pops the door back shut. Making sure he’s caught on the cameras passing outside at this hour he makes his way past the blind spots back towards his apartment.

He heads up the stairs. Two flights and a left turn later he’s punching in 1996 into the keypad for apartment 201 and steps in. 

It’s been three years since he started taking care of Omi, so of course he’d need to know his password, just in case he was in trouble. The automatic lights flood the genkan as he covers his shoes in plastic. His backpack plops to the floor as he prepares his tools.

A low growl can be heard from the far end of the living room. The dull light filters through the window as her dominant stature rears its intimidating head. At 32 kgs, Omi’s Doberman would put up a pretty good fight with Atsumu. Opting for a non-confrontational approach Atsumu calls to her.

“Masumi, Sumi-chan, it’s me yer neighbor.” His sing-song voice cuts through the silence.

Hesitantly she approaches him, and by presenting his hand for her to sniff, he lets her know that he is trustworthy. Reaching into his pockets he unravels a bundle of dried chicken jerky. Her favorite. 

Her disposition changes instantaneously as her strong tail beats with attention. Her predetermined “sit” is already in motion before Atsumu can give her a shred. Winning her over was easier than he’d imagined. Grabbing his things, he sets to his business.

Glancing around he takes in the sight, the apartment is the same as every time he’s seen it before. However, this time he is the figure within. 

Colors of gray smother the expanse of the open apartment. Leather and metal are the only textures reachable to the domestic visitor. Marble countertops mirror steel burners and appliances. The feeling is clean and slightly showroom. 

Propping open some drawers he begins rustling through Sakusa’s belongings, making sure to replace them exactly as they were previously. Lined papers noted with colorful stickies riddle the insides. The drawers slide softly as he nudges them closed with his jeaned thighs. 

Venturing to the shelves he finds an assortment of photos and plaques. White wood covered in black frames marry the room in cohesivity. The myriad of team photos, smiling faces and different colored medals all resonate a life in which Atsumu wasn’t present for. 

“Volleyball, heh.”

Running his gloved hand over the frames he caresses the glass. During his dive, he’s photographing every inch of Sakusa’s apartment. He places the cameras in the premarked positions to ensure their camouflage and accuracy. The mics follow suit. 

His painstaking efforts to order and find the most inconspicuous options bode him well. The newly affixed monitoring system is completely unseeable to the naked eye. 

Proceeding into the bedroom Atsumu feels the excitement surge through his veins. He takes a deep inhale.

The smell of laundry detergent and cotton fills his senses. He can feel the soft plush of carpet beneath the plastic. The curtains keep almost all of the outside irritants at bay with their heavy and dark nature. A heavy down comforter is sprawled across a bed of gray silk. 

_“_ Fer ya curls right?”

Meandering to the bed he shoves his head into the worn pillow. Inhaling deeply, he lets the scent fill his lungs. The fluid kiss of silk brushes past his cheeks. Plopping on top of the sheets he nuzzles into the empty space. The bed is cold, but it slowly molds to his body, inviting him to stay in its embrace.

“Oh Omi, this is where I’ll take you.”

  
  


Legs, intertwined between his. A stern mouth twisted in a delicious o shape. Strong arms reaching beyond his shoulders grabbing for purchase. Dark threads of hair sticking to the sweat on his skin. Hot breath exchanged in the middle of moans. 

“Atsumu.”

Opening his eyes, he curses internally for letting his mind get away from himself. He gets up, his excitement pressing at his jeans, heading to the closet and opening the dresser. He pulls out a particularly worn pair of boxers and presses them to his nose. Delivering the intoxicating aroma straight to his brain. He let out a soft moan as his brain went into a high, absorbing the faint scent of lingering sweat, musk, and laundry detergent. 

“Oh, Omi-Omi.”

His mouth is salivating, his pupils are blown out. His inhale is audible, the moan ten times more. Shoving it into his pocket, he continues his prowl. The closet, much like the rest of the apartment, is a blend of whites to black, with the occasional dark color. The only exception to this are a few choice pieces of beige and brown. 

His hands drift over the assortment of shirts and sweaters that line the hangers. Pulling an older creamy cashmere sweater off the hanger, he imagines how this would look adorned on Sakusa. His full shoulders bulging at the seams, his thin wrists peeking from below the cuff, his warm skin hiding beneath this layer. 

Pulling himself out of it, he looks down. His erection is leaking against the seam of his pants. Shoving the sweater into the backpack he digs further and a small box of memories piques his interest. The box is clearly filled with sentimental tickets and photographs of his Omi… and another man. 

“So yer gay, or at least bisexual.” 

Flipping through the forgotten album he learns that this man is an Ushijima Wakatoshi, they played volleyball on opposite teams. Seems like they got along well. He sorts his way past years of smiles and close contact landing on the last page. A torn newspaper headline showcasing a very full athlete signing to a professional volleyball team is crudely shoved into the end of the book. 

“Volleyball over ya heh? Shame, I would never do that to ya Omi.”

Arranging the memories back in the place he continues further into the closet. He crouches down to an area in the middle of the closet that is protruding more on one side ever so slightly. Looking at his blueprints, he notes that this wasn’t like this originally. 

So call his curiosity intrigued when he presses the space and it shifts to his touch. A small wooden barrier encases an even smaller box. The box has a numerical lock on it, and after several guesses, Atsumu is stumped. He gives it a weak shake listening to whatever the contents could be. The small rusting inside gives him no hints. 

Discouraged, he fixes the stand and makes his way to the connected bathroom. Relishing Sakusa's soap choices he notes his preference. He presses his face into the fluffy towel that hangs on the affixed metal bar. Soft cotton scratches his stubble. His smile creasing the folds of the towel. 

Making his way to the assortment of toiletries on his sink top Atsumu spies up a lone toothbrush. Its textbook white is matched with blue bristles connecting with a purple stripe all the way down the handle.

He runs the bristles over his thumb. The prick is soft and delicate. He puts it to his lips and presses a kiss. The toothbrush breaches the threshold, the cool feeling stretches across his tongue. The fibers flick over the roof of his mouth, the taste, peppermint. 

He groans with the feeling. Shoving the toothbrush further into his mouth, he envisions Omi's long, slender fingers in its place. He could feel the heat rising in his pants as he lightly tapped the back of his throat, causing a slight gag. 

Atsumu was never good at deepthroating, but he'd make sure he could do it for his Omi Omi. His aching erection is grinding at his jeans. He’s close, he could cum untouched just from this small pleasure. Just right- 

His phone vibrates. The tri-toned elongated vibrations only come from one app, his Petfinder GPS. Looking down at the screen he notes the time and the last ping of his precious Omi. 

“Looks like yer already on yer way home tonight baby.” 

* * *

Three Izakayas and a karaoke bill that will burn a hole through Bokuto’s pockets later, Sakusa finds himself swaying on a late train back to his apartment. His mood is hazy and light, he can’t remember the last time he let his bundle of tension unravel like this.

The other two were corralled by what seemed to be their respective partners. Leaving Sakusa to find his way home by his own means, he wasn’t lonely. However, watching them light up with excitement makes him long to feel the same way about anything. 

His dreamlike buzz interrupted by the faint smell of warm vanilla sugar and barbecued meat. 

_Disgusting._

The itch is back. The burn is dragging across his skin.

_I swear to god if you come any closer._

They are the only two people on the train right now. This woman could not possibly have the need to press into his space. 

_Why does she have to be so fucking close?_

Sparing a glare he notes her wobbly nature and her flushed cheeks. Drunk. Her drunken stupor has her clamoring for balance in this late carriage.

_Scum._

Her greasy hands grab at the hem of his jacket, sending him spiraling in a panic. Her filth transpiring to him, he’s going to suffocate.

_Foul. Putrid. Trash._

The hands grab at his throat. His chest seizes. The eyes are watching. The noises are loud. His vision, hazy.

* * *

Thick fingers protected by leather snake around a small and delicate trachea. Panic returns his cold leer as she backs to the edge of the railing. 

A cardigan, crossbody bag, and beige flats tip over the railing, attached to the poorest example of a decent human being they belong to. 

This isn’t the way he likes to do things. However, grabbing one too many is enough to send Sakusa into an episode. Normally, he could shrug it off and detoxify in the shower, but she just had to catch him after a night of drinking, when his judgment was not as keen. 

A loud thud is muffled by the passing traffic. The late-night atmosphere is thick and hazy. 

A cool wind blows through his hair. The overpass is completely empty now, and a wave of silence washes away his anxiety.

The relief is imminent. The hands have found their retreat. A silent huff of his chest brings his equilibrium back. 

“Suzuki Ana, Age 27.”

His hands still burn with the sensation. Shoving them inside of his coat pockets he affixes his mask and resumes his walk home. 

His breath clouds his masked lips and his steps echo in his ears. The walk is quick, too quick for his preferences. He’ll probably regret that when he wakes up, a murder so close… his steps scratch to a stop. Looking up at the stair he spies his neighbor. His jeans hug perfectly around his sculpted legs and the view from behind is immaculate. A loose-fitting henley wraps around his delicious arms. Sakusa can barely tear his eyes away. 

A backpack slung over his shoulder, his headphones play music loud enough for him to barely make out the lyrics. 

“So bite your tongue and choke yourself to sleep.”

_Interesting._

Atsumu is humming with warm cheeks as he scrolls on his phone. The sudden presence of Sakusa behind him pulls a shriek from his lungs. His lips part gracing Sakusa with a sultry and soft voice. 

“Ah! Oh- Omi-kun! Ya scared the shit outta me!” 

“Hi to you too, uh Atsumu.”

Atsumu’s cheery smile is infectious and he can feel his lips twitching at the ends to return his grin.

“ S’kinda late, yeah? Ya had a long night? Watcha doin’ up and about so late.”

“Could say the same thing about you.”

The buzzing is gone, his pulse calm, he feels normal.

Heading towards his door he bids his neighbor goodnight and heads into his apartment.

* * *

Atsumu knows that look anywhere, calm and serene. He must have just did it. Atsumu can only ponder what poor unfortunate soul crossed Omi’s path when he was in a foul mood. He could smell the alcohol permeating from his clothes; he was right about the idiots.

He steps into his own space and breathes out a sigh. Depositing his shoes and belongings near the door he heads for the bedroom, lights click on as he hums to himself. 

“Ya smiled at me today, Omi.”

Powering on the monitors his neighbor's apartment flashes onto the screens. Filtering through the scene selections, Atsumu is able to pick which audio he wants to hear. 

“My own little Omi reality tv.”

Every angle of his apartment is canvassed and projected to Atsumu’s piercing eyes. The sound of a shower running and muffled music sends a burst of desire through his body. Flicking his eyes to the bathroom clips he inhales shakily. 

“Oh Omi, ya really put on a good show.”

Stepping into his shower, Sakusa is humming to what sounds like Elvis. 

“Yer a softie huh babe.”

Lathering his broad shoulders and toned stomach with soap, his voice rises to Atsumu’s ears. 

“Take my hand, take my whole life too.” Sakusa’s voice is saccharine to Atsumu’s tastes. 

He steps into the stream revealing his angular body beneath the suds. His milky skin is dotted with the constellations that make him unique.

Atsumu is pulling the sweater from his bag and pressing it to his face. His swollen excitement is unbearable. 

“Because I can’t help.” His hands card through his wet locks shifting his face upwards. His eyes open almost as if he were staring directly back at Atsumu.

“Falling in love, with.” 

-together-

**“** **_You.”_ **

Their voices only meet on opposing sides of the monitors. 

Their harmony never cascade to Sakusa’s ears. 

Memories in which they share, but only one will remember.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to come yell at me here:  
> @/ sakusasmask504 on Twitter!
> 
> I am so so appreciative of all the comments and the interactions with the Twitter polls and questionnaires. Peach Bellini won the poll by a lot, and literally the next day, I pulled a BRAND NEW peach bellini soap from under my sink (I did not purchase it.) - Needless to say, it became the chapter title.
> 
> SPECIAL THANKS TO:
> 
> My dear dear Ana (@/anatsumu_ on Twitter), your song recommendation has still resonated with me. Sorry I pushed you off a bridge but hey. Bet it was a great view ;) 
> 
> Link to the song Atsumu was humming: https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=8sr0sOrO42M&feature=share


	3. Think of me (Only me)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the way I love you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!! Thanks for waiting and asking for an update! That being said this is the chapter that develops their relationship so it's a little longer, please enjoy!! :D
> 
> Any depiction of mental illness stemming from anxiety to touch aversion is based on my real life, diagnosed, afflictions. I am in no way intending to belittle him as just the disorders, please keep this in mind moving forward. Thank you.
> 
> Thanks to my lovely beta readers Jordan (@/ u_suspend) and Ren (@/ bokutowl12) on Twitter!

It’s louder than usual. Stirring awake, Sakusa grunts at the extra footsteps that tap away outside his apartment. It’s more than the expected foot traffic; it’s the weekend for crying out loud. Rolling out of bed, he stretches his fatigued muscles. He’s been sleeping better for a couple of months now. The sounds fail to reach his slumber and the constant pressure in his eyes, seemingly less overbearing. It must be the new tea. The weight of the previous night's events scatter his mind in slots of memory. 

The most prevalent being the warm smile from his neighbor that beckoned his heart to swell. Followed by the tumultuous feeling of unease from the realization that he threw garbage over the bridge in a hasty manner, breaking his routine. 

Shuffling to his closet he plucks out some running shorts and a windbreaker to pull over himself, then makes his way into the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face. The water rushes the sleep from his eyes and he steps into the living room fresh and clean, gearing himself up for the day ahead of him. 

She’s already tapping her toes with excitement, waiting at the door when Sakusa enters the room. Pulling her harness over her chest, he clasps the loop with the leash’s carabiner. The loud click sends signals of affirmation to Masumi, and she whines with excitement. Affixing the leash around his waist and patting his pockets for his necessities, Sakusa props open the door to start their jog. 

It’s another crisp morning, same as usual. The cool sting of the railing as they descend to the concrete below. The loud crunch of gravel as they head towards the main road. The gate squeaks under pressure as he presses forward. It’s all the same.

Except it isn’t.

Making his way down the pavement he can’t help but notice his need to weave around other people one too many times. The tan trench coat, blue blazer, maroon cardigans all brushing a step too close for comfort. This is _not_ normal. There are too many people out today. Too many faces, too many hands. The potential for exposure is multiplied exponentially. A brush with an unsuspecting child on his thigh burns. His bare skin adhering and peeling itself from the kid in a matter of a millisecond. It’s too much. 

The crawling under his skin scratches forward, always emerging at the most inopportune time.

By the time he makes it to the park, Sakusa is worn out, _mentally_. Every foreign body that brushed his arm or stood too close has left a brand on his perception. He is weighted with the hands that meander his frame. Their marks etched into his skin imperceptible to the naked eye. 

Hunching over himself, his breathing becomes distressed. He should’ve known that it was a bad idea. He can’t see anyone, he can’t hear anything. The ringing is loud and uncontrollable. Masumi tugs at the leash, his body swaying from the jolt. 

_Fuck._

Warm arms wrap around his shoulders. Pulling him upright, Sakusa has no time to flinch away when he comes face to face with that damned baseball cap. Worn on the edges, but still holding its original shape. 

His wheezing is prominent, his chest is on fire. His eyes dilated and unfocused. His worries flood his words, babbling and mumbles are his only protest. Sakusa’s balance gives and he melts into Atsumu’s grip. His touch leaves no burn.

“Hey! Omi? Ya okay? Shit.” Atsumu’s frantic nature quickly subsided into a calm demeanor. His voice drops in volume and hushed encouragements lull Sakusa back from the edge. 

“Hey, breathe, look at me. In 1...2...3… out…. 2….3- C’mon repeat fer me.”

Atsumu’s palm is rubbing circles on the small of his back. Sakusa’s breathing is centering. Snaking in between his trembling fingers are Atsumu’s own. Warm and grounding, _inviting_ , calming; his hands feel like a warm cup of tea. 

“Squeeze when ya breathe in and let go softly when ya release, Omi. I got ya it’s ok.”

Sakusa’s vision clears, his senses no longer dulled. His pulse, rapid. Taking in a solid breath, Sakusa can’t help but note how good Atsumu smells. How nice he feels completely wrapped in his embrace. Completely in his care-

He jerks back and lands on the park bench. The moist wood leaves an undesired damp feeling on his thighs. Masumi pulls at her leash to garner any attention from their friendly neighbor. Panting and shaken up, Sakusa cups his hands over his knees to regain composure. 

Around them the city life continues on. In the distance traffic is stalled and a bus pulls from the curb. A tiny dog barks, frantically pulling at their leash in a feeble attempt to capture a wild squirrel. Atsumu giggles at the contrast.

“Sumi-chan, yer such a good girl!” Atsumu coos at the large Doberman. 

Masumi perks at the praise, yanking on her leash to garner more attention. Sakusa chuckles into the palms of his hands. 

“She could probably pull you down the block if you gave her the chance, Miya.”

“M’not sure about that Omi, m’pretty strong myself!”

Looking up, Sakusa reddens at the sight. Atsumu’s bright smile sears into view, his strong hands nipping at Masumi’s nose. His shorts do very little to cover the bikers from peeking out underneath, his bulging thighs slick with sweat. Atsumu looks up and when their eyes meet Sakusa feels almost as if someone punched all of the air out of him again. _Gorgeous._

The air around them stills, the sounds drowned by his own heartbeat. Warmth floods his face, he’s so grateful that in this moment he has a mask on. A cold breeze carries fallen leaves past his line of vision. The trees dance in harmony. Popping his cap off, Atsumu runs his fingers through his slightly sweaty hair. Sakusa can’t help but stare now. 

“H-how did you know I needed help? Why do you know breathing exercises?”

“One at a time, Omi.” Atsumu heaves a breathy laugh. 

“Got a brother a lot like ya. He’s always had real bad attacks, especially in high school on the way to games, got pretty good at catching them and helping him cope after a while.” His shoe kicks the cement below him in an attempt to fill the silence.

Atsumu squats by Sakusa’s knees looking up at him, maintaining eye contact. All the while rubbing Masumi’s belly, who has since succumbed to the onslaught of pets in a desperate fashion.

“Games? Like what, baseball?”

At the mention, Atsumu’s grin is sinister. Sending shivers down Sakusa’s spine from the intensity. Sakusa can tell he was clearly passionate about it.

“Ah- no, Volleyball.”

Sakusa’s heart perked at the mention. How could it not? The sport he loved, the one that brought him joy, and the same one that _took away_ what he thought was the love of his life. 

He grips his knees, the memories bursting back into view. Memories once enveloped in warmth and kindness, now bringing only pain and self loathing.

_Fuck. Not right now._

Furrowing his eyebrows together Sakusa shakes his head, his curls naturally fraying loose from their normal placement. Looking up at him Atsumu put his hands over Sakusa’s knees, offering a small squeeze of reassurance. He unclasps the leash from around Sakusa’s waist, hooking it around his own. He stands up, muscles flexing at the stretch. 

“Hey, ya okay? Ya look like yer gunna pass out. Wanna head back home?”

Reaching his hand out to offer Sakusa a lift.

“Yeah, I’d like that. Alot.”

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


With a loud crack the metal kisses flesh. Incomprehensible speech is muffled by loud shouts. Red fades to the black below as the streets echo the sounds of a struggle.

“Atsumu, I think he’s had enough.”

“Yeah.”

Hopping on the bus he sits himself in the furthest row of seats. The bus is mostly empty, save the driver and a mother with her child. Cool leather squeaks under his jeans as he leans back. The air is dry and heavy. The streetlights pass like a blur, obscured by the droplets of condensation that race down the window. His phone alerts to the familiar tri-tone vibration. 

_Hope yer being a good boy fer me, Omi._

Reaching into his pockets he is shocked to find that the tracker pinged Sakusa back at his apartment, a blue buoy rippling the same location over and over.

_Friday night and yer staying home? Wonder if he’s not feeling good. Maybe I’ll check on him. My Omi can’t be sick._

Swiping to the home security app he clicks on the video feed. Minus Masumi chewing at her paws in the corner of the living room, the apartment is dark, still, and Sakusa is nowhere in the front. Scrolling to the back cameras he almost drops his phone at the view. His hands tremble and he swipes the sweat from his palms off on his knee. 

Spread out over his sheets is Sakusa, draped in a delicate robe. The fabric ripples down his toned body, pooling where his back touches the silk of the sheets, his chest heaving with every breath. His soft skin glows under the light of the lamp. Sakusa’s face was bending into a focused scowl as he bites down on his lip. He lays on his back while softly fisting at his own cock, wrapping loosely around his length. His slow drag draws Atsumu’s eyes in. His knees are propped up and the arch in his back seems as if it were there to invite Atsumu to slot himself right in. 

_Fuck, baby ya look so good spread out like that._

Atsumu curses under his breath. Being two hours from home he is unable to relish in the full experience. He wouldn’t be able to hear the noises Sakusa made on his own. He wouldn’t be able to envelop himself in the same familiar scent. 

Atsumu can almost feel Sakusa’s warm muscles beneath his fingertips. Their breath mixing as he moans his name.

_Atsumu._

_Yeah baby fer only me._

On screen _his_ Omi reaches over to the side table and fishes out a small bottle of lube. The dark silk gives to the push of his milky limbs. Squirting a dollop onto his fingers he reaches down to prod at his own entrance. His furrowed brows pinch as he slips a digit in. _So lewd._

Atsumu may bite through his lip at this point. His head bobs as the bus weaves through the empty streets, the jerk of the vehicle completely forgotten as his eyes stay glued to the scene unfolding over the screen. The surrounding reality falls flat to the experience gifted to him in his palms.

It doesn’t take long for Sakusa to find a rhythm, stroking his own cock while thrusting his fingers inside of him. His lips part in a beautiful shape, then mouthing words no one can hear. His orgasm is quick and dramatic, his body jolting as his cock leaks over his chest. His toes dig into the bed while he throws his head back. His curls fall loosely over his face as he thrusts upward. Seemingly moaning the same words over and over. 

_Did he just say Atsumu?_

* * *

  
  
  


Masumi is circling at the door again. Sakusa goes about their weekend walk rituals and eagerly preps her for a brisk jog. The morning is slightly cooler so he adorns a thick pullover before stepping out into the hallway. Crisp winds push through the crack bursting at his skin. Sakusa secretly loves their morning respites. It gives him an air of clarity, a moment to appreciate the subtle things. The frosty air all but forgotten as the melody of their steps pitter-patters in tune with his beating heart. Masumi’s fur shining with the rising sun. The small things. 

Like the way his neighbor’s hair bounces as he jogs next to them. Like the way his lips are tinted pink with the chilly wind barely brushing by. Like the way their shoulders bump when moving past other people. How his once silent morning jogs are full of noise and life, given one Miya Atsumu. 

  
  


Atsumu becomes a part of his routine. Their exchanges grow more complex and intimate. Morning jogs blend into morning coffee shop patio chats. Bad coffee becomes tea at his place. See you laters become good nights. Saturdays reserved for recreational volleyball. His weekends become the same blur of blonde and smiles, solely for Atsumu. Glances and unspoken words meant only for each other. All brimming from a simple statement.

“Omi!” His flushed cheeks beaming with excitement.

He leans over Sakusa’s counter, feet barely lifting off of the wood flooring. His abandoned teacup inches from the edge. His loose t-shirt dipping near the front exposing his chiseled collarbones. 

“There’s a neighborhood volleyball club! C’mon, come play!” 

“Atsumu, it’s been years, I’m not sure I even remember how to play.” _A lie._

Atsumu bites his lip in a pout, his eyes peeling apart Sakusa’s facade. Sakusa reaches across the counter, scooping the cup from the edge and sliding it towards himself. His face ghosting by Atsumu’s. The smell of his cologne almost persuades him to pull Atsumu into a kiss. 

“Ah- it’s like ridin’ a bike, ya could never forget! Will ya let me set to ya?”

And he was hooked. 

“Yeah, sure. Why not.”

The ceramic lip presses to his own, flooding his senses with warmth as Sakusa swallows the liquid. The cup hides the spreading smile at Atsumu’s enthusiasm. 

* * *

  
  


Sakusa could never forget volleyball. As soon as he stepped back onto the court it was like he never left. His body moved with a memory of its own. Soul crushing spikes paired with a wicked spin were only complimentary to his insane serve. The feeling was exhilarating. Sakusa stared to the other side of the court with so much passion and fervor. The burn from the exercise overcame the smolder of his ever present aversion. He almost forgot about why he stopped playing. _Almost._

It all comes rushing back to him eventually, though. What if he was just feeling the residual happiness from the sport he shared with Wakatoshi? Was this real? Did he have the right to feel so excited? The grin on his face quickly faded, replaced with a scowl.

Sakusa was beginning to spiral. The vines wound around his body and constricted his movements. The scorching itch was ever present. Excusing himself from the game he stumbled out of the gym lamenting the need for “fresh air.” Bursting through the doors, the cold seeped into his aching muscles. He found refuge leaning under a tree. 

Thoughts circling back to a big court and huge crowds, eager faces and _that_ smile. The smell of salonpas and rubber. Sweaty, inexperienced hands gripping for purchase against an equally as built body. Soft kisses beneath the bleachers, hushed I love yous, and the brevity of touch. Sakusa’s chest ached at the thought, choking down tears he was trembling. 

_Pathetic._

He hated that he felt this way. Hated the control these memories had over him. He hated himself for letting it get this bad.

Sakusa was so lost in his self deprecation that when a familiar presence pressed into his space he could only look up in haste. Warm palms cupped his face, and honeyed eyes demanded his gaze. His panic subsides, Atsumu bears the load of his burdens with such ease.

“Look at me, Omi. Me. M’right here. Not goin’ anywhere.” 

**_Think about me, only me._ **

Desperate eyes flickering back and forth, searching for acceptance, mirroring Atsumu’s plea for consideration. He’s serious. Bumping their foreheads together he lets out a shaky breath. A smirk stretches his face. He’s here, he wants to be here. Atsumu wants him.

_I want this_.

“Stay with me, please. Atsumu.”

“Course, Omi. Anything fer you. I grabbed yer things, ya wanna head back early?”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” 

Slipping his hand down Sakusa’s arm, his featherlight touch was hesitant and wary. Seemingly seeking permission, he ghosts above Sakusa’s own hands. Curling his pinky around Sakusa’s, Atsumu tugs slightly. Looking at him Sakusa can see the blush forming on his cheeks and the red tips of his ears. _He’s so cute._

“God you’re an idiot.”

Slipping his hand into Atsumu’s, squeezing it tightly before leading them back home. The cool winter breeze forces them closer together. 

* * *

  
  


“Omi, m’serious!!” His whine long and drawn out. They’ve had this discussion several times before, and every time Sakusa was against the addition. 

“It’s a lot of responsibility.”

“But Sumi needs a friend. She’s clearly lonely, look at her.”

Plopping the last scoop of Jasmine green tea into his infuser he turns to look over his counter. Masumi and Atsumu are on their backs curled over each other on the floor of his living room. Her paws in his hands they both look back at Sakusa. Atsumu’s lips forming a pout _. Tch._

“Didn’t take you for the type to beg like a dog for things, Atsumu.”

He turns back, pouring the hot water into the kettle, he closes the lid to allow the tea to disperse. Reaching up he grabs two cups from the cupboard. One classic mug fitted with a handle, and the other a small traditional tea cup. The smooth ceramic glides softly onto the counter.

“Omi! Don’t say those things in front of the baby!” He dramatically covers Masumi’s ears in an exaggerated fashion. Her collar clinks in par with his laughter. 

Pouring hot water into his cup he lets it sit to warm. Turning his head to look over his shoulder he calls out to Atsumu. 

“Atsumu, coffee?”

“Hm? Yeah thanks, with a splash of milk and three spoons of sugar please.”

Before he knew it Sakusa was already reaching for the sugar.

_When did he learn Atsumu’s favorite way to drink coffee? Why was his inability to drink a bitter coffee so endearing?_

Reaching above him Atsumu grabs the tin of instant coffee. Placing a soft kiss on Sakusa’s temple he scoots him out of the way. 

“I got it babe, yer tea is gonna get all nasty if ya keep staring at me all day.”

“Whatever.”

Pouring the water out of the cup he picks up the kettle to begin pouring his tea. Glancing at Atsumu readying his own drink, Sakusa can’t help but feel warm inside. He really liked this. He really liked him. So what if he wanted to get his own dog and spend more time with him? 

_How could he say no?_

So he doesn’t.

The shelter is loud, the atmosphere bright and festive. Christmas was just around the corner. The smell of wet dog and disinfectant is not nearly as inviting as one would hope. 

“Pets as a present? What could go wrong?” Sakusa’s warning fell on deaf ears as he watched Atsumu bounce back and forth between cages, swooning for every soft soul and wide eyes. It almost felt like they wouldn’t be able to choose. 

That was of course until they heard the _loudest_ howl in the facility. Like a ship to a beacon, Atsumu was drawn in, immediately heading towards the back row of enclosures before stopping before a medium sized pup. A beagle mix. The sound of her tail thumping on the side of the cage made their hearts ache. She was clearly excited to see them. 

The tag adhered to the front of the glass read “Gwen,” short for “Gwendolyn,”; the summary continued to include the meaning relating to being “pure” or “blessed.” Her short tan and white fur was speckled with touches of black and framed around her eyes. Like pots of honey inviting you in. She was smaller than Masumi, but seemed like she’d be eager to take on a challenge. Atsumu was beckoned by her call. His heart fastened in her grip. Like a siren with a song, she found a home with Atsumu.

“She’s perfect.”

“What?”

“Purity Omi! Her and Sumi would be best friends!!” 

“Atsumu you can’t just assume that they’ll get along by their names, that’s ridiculous.” 

Atsumu was already flagging down a volunteer before Sakusa could finish his point. Her eager bounce was the nail in the coffin. Their trial playtime was a success to say the very least. Atsumu’s excitement and joy was every present and the warmth rushed Sakusa’s body. Watching him fall in love with her was so endearing it reminded him of his own gotcha' day. Sakusa was already googling dog parks near their apartment before Atsumu could sign the dotted line. 

Introducing Masumi to Gwen could not have gone any smoother. They hit it off instantly. Bounding around the small park, they seemed like they were fated to be friends. Their paws pattering in the snow. Looking to his right, Sakusa can only bask in the soft warmth of Atsumu’s face. His nature is clearly loving and bright. 

Sakusa is drawn in, looping his arm with Atsumu’s, he drags them down into a snow pile. Landing on top of him he props himself on Atsumu’s chest. 

“I thought you’d only look at me like that.”

His pout betraying him, it presses out in a dramatic fashion.

“Yer jealous? Of the dogs? C’mon Omi baby! It’s only you, always you fer me.”

Pulling the ends of Sakusa’s scarf he places a wet cold kiss on his mouth, only stopping to run his warm tongue over his lips, laughing at the face that’s returned. One snowball to the forehead later and they are stumbling back home, dogs in tow.

Opening the door for his normal weekend routine, Sakusa can’t help but smile now as two bright faces welcome his morning. 

“Omi! We were waitin’ on ya!” 

_Together._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is love... ;) I know it's more fluff than usual- please ready yourselves for the storm to come! 
> 
> On Twitter you all decided that Sakusa was a tea drinker! Wow, the passion some of you had for tea!!! However, the DMs came flooding in for coffee. In the end they both got a spotlight. :D
> 
> Chapter 4 will come VERY soon- please look forward to a very naughty holiday celebration.


	4. Seasonal Affection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baby, it's cold outside
> 
> “Didn’t take ya fer the needy type Omi baby.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my lovely beta readers [Jordan ](https://twitter.com/u_suspend) , [Ren](https://twitter.com/bokutowl12) , and [ E ](https://twitter.com/beefyboihinata)on Twitter!
> 
> Extra cookies for those who notice each and every creepy easter egg and scream at me in the DMs, you guys are insane!!! Bet you can't catch these ;)

Swirling snow and bursting winds rattle the windows. The streets lay barren, powdered in frost. It’s late, real late. Atsumu had brought Gwen over for some playtime with Masumi; the two took together like fish in the water. An hour turned into two which then turned into eight. And now they are all lounging about Sakusa's warm apartment watching Christmas movies. 

Warm cinnamon and nutmeg wrap around his senses as he relaxes. His body sinking further into the embrace of the couch. The heavy head on his lap and the lump of person attached to it snuggled under a blanket pull at his heartstrings. 

_I really wanna stay._

“Hey s’kinda late, me and Gwen should head in fer the night.”

“Baby it’s cold outside.” Sakusa buries his head into the space where Atsumu’s torso meets his hips. His toned arms wrap around Atsumu’s waist, nuzzling further into his hold. 

_I don’t wanna go away._

“Omi, I live literally right across the hall, I’ll be fine.”

“But Atsumu, it’s cold outside.” He runs his palms up and around Atsumu’s thighs. His tone begging for anything and everything.

“Well maybe just fer a little bit more.”

_I win._

He pulls Sakusa onto his lap, his heavy thighs encasing his own. God was he beautiful. Running his fingers up and down Sakusa’s torso, he savors the sight. Slightly blushed and pure, Sakusa sits staring back at him with lewd hooded eyes. His jaw is slack leaving his lips slightly ajar. His hair is still damp from the shower. One hand propped on Atsumu’s chest for balance, he purrs at the attention.

_Fuck this is a pretty picture._

“This okay?”

A heady nod. 

“Yeah, more.”

Pulling Sakusa in closer the man mewls in his grip. His hands trace the definition of Sakusa’s back whilst peeling off his shirt. The pale skin dotted with small spots makes his heart beat in anticipation. Pausing to double-check if it’s okay, he’s met with a soft whine.

“Didn’t take ya fer the needy type Omi baby.” 

He mulls placing kisses up and down Sakusa’s exposed neck and chest.

“I didn’t either.”

His breathy reply caught in the middle of their lips. 

“What?”

“I- this is, ahh- You’re the first to touch me like this.”

_My pure untouched Omi. Only fer me._

“Fuck- don’t say that when you’re on my lap like this.”

Sakusa grinds down, eliciting a deep groan from Atsumu. Biting the meat of his cheeks, Atsumu inhales sharply.

“Atsumu- want it.”

Flushed cheeks, Pupils dilated, and curls astray; Sakusa Kiyoomi is a sin, and Atsumu is biting the apple. Pulling him into a kiss Atsumu grinds his hips forward, ripping a moan from the man on his lap. His mouth parts and Atsumu dives further, teeth nipping at Sakusa’s lip. Gripping his cheeks he abruptly stands up off of the couch. 

Sakusa yelps in surprise, smothering his giggles in the crook of Atsumu’s neck, wrapping his legs around Atsumu’s waist. Atsumu pads to the bedroom, gently placing Sakusa on the bed, he slowly removes his shirt. 

Crawling over to Sakusa he hooks his fingers around his waistband and softly pulls his pants off of his legs. The dark pants peel slowly from his untainted porcelain skin. His fingers gently tracing the outline of his muscles while he trails kisses all the way down the length of his legs. He raises one of Sakusa’s legs to his chest and bends his knee to place fleeting kisses, the last ghosting on Sakusa’s ankles.

“Atsumu.”

Sakusa is blushed, panting, needy. His erection leaking through the fabric of his briefs.

“Yer so damn beautiful Omi, m’gonna treat you right. Give ya everythin' you want. Be everythin' ya need, so ya can't live without me.”

Palms sliding up his legs, Atsumu rubs at Sakusa’s growing excitement. Kissing at his thighs he nips softly at the delicate skin. Trailing marks deep red on his once untarnished skin. Sakusa covers his mouth with his hands to stifle the moans to Atsumu’s dismay.

“Omi, baby, lemme hear ya. I wanna see, hear, taste, all of ya.”

“Mmm”

“Need a second? Ya hafta tell me what ya want Omi, m’not a mind reader.”

Slender fingers wrap into blonde locks. Yanking his head upward to affirm.

“Atsumu- more, I want you to touch me more. Please.”

“Anything fer you baby.” 

Sliding his briefs off of him, he litters kisses from the meat of his thighs to the base of his cock. Running his hands up and down Sakusa’s torso he ghosts his digits over a perked nipple. Sakusa arches his back searching for more sensation whining at the tease. His abandoned cock bobs, leaking from excitement. 

“MM- yer so sensitive. How’d ya deal with this all by yerself?”

“Ahh- I- please, I don’t know.”

“Shhhh I know babe, I’ll make ya feel good. Don’t worry.”

Leaning over him, his lips trail wet kisses down Sakusa’s neck, leaving his mark in the form of love bites. He reaches over to the nightstand and pulls out a small bottle of lube and some condoms placing them on the bed beside them. Swiftly returning to his relentless worship, his teeth grazing Sakusa’s collarbone.

“How’d? Ahhhh-”

“Shhh I just guessed, lean back fer me baby.” Sliding back down he lifts Sakusa’s hips to prop him on a plush pillow. 

“Mm-, off- I want to see you too.”

Raising himself to the foot of the bed, Atsumu slowly drags his legs out from his pants. Lifting the hem of his shirt he pulls it over his head, his muscles flexing with the movement. Pulling his briefs down in one fell swoop, he dives back on the bed on all fours. Licking his lips he situates himself between Sakusa’s legs. 

“There’s no way.”

“What?”

“You’re going to break me, there’s no way it’s going to fit.”

Atsumu’s brain lags while trying to process the words slipping from those beautiful lips. 

“Shit, Omi ya don’t know what yer doin’ to me.”

He leans in and blows softly. Sakusa moans at the unexpected sensation. 

“Ahh-Atsumu wait are you-” His tongue swipes the muscle and Sakusa jolts in his grip. 

“Fuck-”

Chuckling at the reaction he lays his tongue flat against the entrance, lapping at the soft muscle he can't help but feel pride in Sakusa’s trembling thighs. Slipping his tongue through he runs his hands down slowly. Finding a rhythm while working the entire length of his palms down Sakusa’s body replacing his tongue with a thick lubed finger. 

His persistence doesn’t end there. He slides in and out slowly working Sakusa from the inside while licking a stripe up his aching cock. Pink and smooth, it stands begging for friction. Swirling his tongue around the tip he smiles pecking a soft kiss on the end. Looking up he is shaken to the core at the view he is gifted.

Trembling in his wake, completely taken apart is Sakusa, a feast for Atsumu’s starving eyes. His muscles tense with every thrust of Atsumu’s finger. His moans are soft and lewd, and his fingers grip the sheets beneath him. Sakusa’s body is left completely open and vulnerable. 

_Mine. I wanna ruin yer pretty face._

Taking his cock entirely into his throat, Atsumu opens Sakusa with another finger. Scissoring them to the rhythm of his own bobs. Sakusa’s moan is feral. His head falls back as he grips a chunk of Atsumu’s hair. Sliding in and out Atsumu lifts Sakusa’s leg over his shoulder.

Sakusa’s grip grows tighter, clenching around Atsumu’s fingers he moans. His weak protests do little to stop the pursuit. Depositing more gel on a third digit he pushes in spreading the muscle further apart. Hollowing his cheeks, his tongue laps the underside of Sakusa’s cock.

Sakusa digs his heels into the sheets, arching his back off of the bed and slurring his words together.

“Aahhh-pleasefuckme.” 

Atsumu pulls off of Sakusa’s cock with a wet “pop”. 

“Yeah baby, beg fer me.” Curling his fingers he brushes against Sakusa’s prostate. 

“AAhhtsumu, please I need- please fuck- fuck me now.”

“I can’t say no when yer so pretty like that.”

Reaching over to grab the condom, their erections grind against each other. Sakusa circles his hips desperate for the sensation. Atsumu's chest vibrates a groan in response. Ripping the foil wrapper and hastily rolling it down his length. 

“Ffffuck. Omi, ya ready fer me?”

Curls sway violently as Sakusa impatiently nods. 

“Hurry-mmm”

Atsumu presses his head to his opening. Watching intently between the muscle stretching around his cock and the variance in expression _his_ Omi is allowing. Slowly he sinks further cursing under his pursed lips. Beneath him Sakusa is clutching the sheets, his own fingernails forming crescent moon indentions on his perfect skin.

“Hahh- holy- fu- is it all going to fit?”

Sakusa’s face twists into a scowl, tears welling at the corners of his eyes. Pressing forward Atsumu sinks further into him. He gently pecks at the tear streaming down Sakusa’s cheek. 

_Cry._

“Shh, relax, breathe fer me.”

Atsumu snaps his hips. Their bodies completely melded together. Sakusa keens, his puffy lips open to a beautiful shape. Giving him time to adjust, Atsumu runs his palms over Sakusa’s chest, praise falling from his lips, petaling like snow to Sakusa’s ears. 

His thumbs flick over Sakusa’s plump nipples as he rolls his hips. Gently rocking into him, he slides his hands over Sakusa’s waist and grips tightly. 

“Ohhmi- s’like yer made to fit perfectly in my hands.” 

Pulling almost all the way out he slams back into Sakusa’s embrace. Their moans echo in the soft light. Sakusa reaches, clawing for hold against Atsumu’s broad back. His tight walls clench around Atsumu’s cock. His body bounces to Atsumu’s tempo. The sensation is intense. The scene is unforgettable. Atsumu knows he won’t last long. Pulling from Sakusa’s grip, he steadies himself on his knees. Sakusa whines at the loss, his protest bratty and desperate.

_Cute._

“Shhh I got ya, on yer knees fer me?”

He watches closely as Sakusa shifts onto his front. Atsumu presses softly on Sakusa’s upper back, pushing him gently into the bed. Pliantly, Sakusa buries his face into the sheets, arching his back. His erection pinned between his stomach and the pillow beneath him. Atsumu’s fingertips traverse down the plane of his back, his thumbs dipping into the dimples on either side. His soft skin contrasts beautifully with Atsumu’s own. Leaning in to press a chaste kiss on his tailbone Atsumu relents his praises.

“Beautiful. Ya know that Omi? Yer the prettiest thing’ve ever seen.”

“Ahh– no.”

Lining up behind him, Atsumu slams into his tight embrace,his grip bruising indents into Sakusa’s unblemished skin. His punishing pace harmonizes with Sakusa’s enthusiastic noises. Their movement is euphoric. 

Atsumu could only imagine how many times he would re-watch this scene before him. Watch as his beloved comes completely undone at his mercy. Watch as his perfect Omi is impaled by his own cock. The thought sends shivers down his spine. Eager for pleasure, Atsumu's rhythm becomes erratic, frantic.

Sakusa whines into the sheets beneath him. He’s close. Reaching forward, Atsumu pulls Sakusa up to press him on his chest. Sakusa keens at the stimulation. Atsumu’s cock is pressing against his walls. Dragging his palm down Sakusa’s torso he loosely wraps his fingers around his leaking shaft. Pumping it lazily he thrusts into Sakusa chasing his own climax. Sakusa’s walls clench around him and he can feel the wave of pleasure crashing on him before he sees the white spurting onto his fist. The pulsing sends Atsumu over the edge, heat searing to his groin and the world goes blank. Biting onto Sakusa’s shoulder he collapses them onto the bed, his orgasm jolting his body. Their breathing is heavy and heated.

* * *

Basking in the afterglow, Atsumu caresses Sakusa’s loose curls. They peel apart slowly, Sakusa droning at the soreness. Atsumu treads to the bathroom to deposit the condom in the trash and to warm a damp towel. 

He slowly wipes the evidence of their undoing from Sakusa’s abused body. His once unsullied skin now riddled with Atsumu’s brand. He loves the look. Sakusa hums at the touch, his sensitive nature revealing itself furthermore.

“Mmm– babe I’m not kissing you until you brush your teeth.”

His voice is hoarse and raspy.

“Hah– figured that. Ya okay here for a sec?”

“Yeah, I’m going to make some tea for the night, you want some?”

“Yeah, that’ll help thanks.”

Atsumu gives Sakusa’s thigh one last squeeze before he stands and makes his way into the cool bathroom. Plucking his toothbrush from their holder he lazily goes about his motions. His imagination is reeling in the events that just took place. He can’t help but feel like he played the game of a lifetime and came out on top. Adrenaline courses through his veins. Finishing his routine he plops his toothbrush back into its holder and chuckles at its childish designs. Green and yellow with foxes on the hilt. 

* * *

  
  


Large warm arms stretch over his waist, reaching to pull him closer. Sakusa sighs into the embrace, melting with the affection. Atsumu brings him the warmth that he’d been missing. The feeling of normalcy he strived to morph into. It’s great. It’s perfect. He wanted to spend eternity preening in this sense of domestication and happiness.

But for Sakusa, all good things come to an end. The price he will pay for this moment of tranquility is etched on the walls of his mind. It’s not right. It was never right. 

The tv continues to play in the living room cycling through various Christmas carols and commercials for the next big sale. The dogs curl over each other. Flashes of red and green permeate the otherwise dark apartment.

The pull of slumber drags his eyelids closed. The rise and fall of his chest rock him into a state of weightlessness. Darkness heightens his hearing as he drifts. The lull of sleep washes over him.

“Authorities suspect body found...Suzuki Ana, Age 27... under...of...foul play… Investigation continues.”

Sakusa slips into a soft slumber, his heart wrenching all the while.

* * *

  
  
  


A dull ache throbs behind his eyes. His throat is parched, his tongue sore. His muscles sting with any small movement. Atsumu stirs when suddenly, his eyes burst open. Pulling at the restraints the rope burrows into his skin. Wincing at the pain, he realizes his efforts are futile. His heartbeat picks up, it’s practically bursting from his chest. 

He glances around the room in a panic. He’s still in Sakusa’s apartment, on Sakusa’s dining room table. His entire body is bound by corded rope. His partner, nowhere in sight.

_Fuck._

The living room is plastered in photos, Atsumu doesn’t have to look twice to know where they came from. Photos of a raven-haired man living an average life blend to the same man committing heinous acts. Incriminating photos mixing with precious smiles. Atsumu can feel the bile rising from his chest. The act is inescapable. The photos lay ridden across every surface of the room, his only reprieve is the ceiling. Atsumu groans in despair. He’s been caught, his Omi would never love him after this. 

The bedroom door creaks open, two dogs and the love of his life meander into the living room. His silence is deafening. 

“Good Morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)
> 
> And we've hit the climax! 
> 
> Where do you think these two will go from here? I'm curious to know!! Happy Holidays! I am forever grateful to all of you who gave this fic a read! <3
> 
> Yes, the news is talking about poor Ana who we pushed off a bridge a few chapters back ;)


	5. And I loved you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a pile of his own flesh, Sakusa curls onto the floor of an unfamiliar apartment with too familiar demons ripping through his mind.
> 
> "Love isn’t supposed to hurt Atsumu, but ours does."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my lovely beta readers [Jordan ](https://twitter.com/u_suspend) and [Ren](https://twitter.com/bokutowl12) on Twitter!

Two pills. 

Two blue pills and a warm cup of tea was all it took to take down a man. Sakusa had been weaning him into bitter tea for months. Getting Atsumu to drink it was simple after letting him in on false vulnerability. Sakusa dreads the day he had to make his move. It came sooner than he had hoped. So now he lay in the bed he made himself, torn at the seams of love and hate. 

It’s still early in the morning and the sun has yet to rear its ugly head. Even the birds remain dormant as Sakusa slowly comes back to consciousness. Adjusting to the dim light, he rubs the sleep from his eyes. 

He shifts to his side and peels an arm off of him. By now it should have taken effect, rendering his bedmate completely incapable of rousing. Sakusa presses the heel of his palms into his eyes, his heart beating out of his chest. A shaky sigh heaves from his chest; his body completely knackered. 

Glancing back over his shoulder, he sees Atsumu remains completely unbothered. Standing up to prepare, Sakusa takes one last forlorn look at him. Sakusa wanted it to be real. He wanted to wake up to Atsumu’s warm smile and loving embrace. Sheets of silk lay haphazardly over his sleeping form. His easy-going nature is almost ethereal. 

Completely shrouded in the dark, not a single worry on his face. His eyelashes pressed together with slumber still remnant in the corners. Soft freckles litter his cheeks and his hair remains unkempt. His arrogant nature washed away in the intimacy of it all. The most beautiful sight a man could behold. 

Stepping into the bathroom he readies himself for the task at hand. It’s an early start, but he needs all the time he can get. He heads into the closet and pushes the partition while reaching further into the allotted crevice. Pulling a backpack and some binding materials out, Sakusa re-checks their quality, tugging at the ends and re-evaluating the strength. Running his fingers over the braided rope, his vision suddenly blurs around the edges. 

_No._

_Not again._

Sakusa refuses to let his emotions overwhelm him. He swallows his sobs and wipes the ghosts of his tears away, steeling his nerves.

He drags himself to the living room and begins to cover the table with plastic wrap. The entire apartment is still, the only sounds are those of the plastic crinkling over the edges. His breathing shaky and uneven, he heads back into the room. 

It couldn’t have ended any other way. It wasn’t meant to be. And Sakusa knew it. He knew happiness wasn’t attainable for someone like him. 

Weaving his arms beneath Atsumu’s neck and knees he lifts him off of the bed, grunting at the weight. As if it wasn’t tethered to a body, Atsumu’s head remains flaccid, forcing Sakusa to shift his weight to the side. Atsumu’s arms hang limp, swaying as they make their way into the living room. Placing him on the table he watches as Atsumu’s chest rises and falls at a slow but even pace. This isn’t the way he wanted this to end, but this is the only way Sakusa knows how to handle it.

The rope slides between his fingers, catching in between the grooves as he wraps it tightly around Atsumu’s unconscious body. The process is muscle memory. Sakusa has done this countless times before, so why, why are his hands trembling when they graze Atsumu’s cold thighs? Why does he feel his heart pang when Atsumu mutters his name in his sleep? 

Tying the loose ends at the foot of the table he steps back to crank the heater on higher. Leaving Atsumu settled in the living room, Sakusa grabs the backpack and heads for the door. A small whine stops him in his tracks as he looks down at two sets of curious eyes. Gwen and Matsumi shuffle slightly by his legs before he pats them gently. 

He steps out and the melody of his door rings out as the cold floods his senses. Making his way quickly to the other door he punches in the code and steps in. The familiar scent grounds him in an uneasy sense of comfort. He ventures into the apartment, the lights of the genkan automatically illuminating his figure. The apartment is just like his own, only reversed and slightly more ‘lived in’. 

Continuing his motions, Sakusa heads to the back room. His steps are quick and precise and the anxiety clings onto his shoulders. A silver glint catches his eyes: the affixed lock standing in his way. Pulling a crowbar from his pack, he swings his arms, efficiently smashing the lock. Small pieces of metal are cast aside as he swings the door open. Upon the sight, the weight of his anger envelops him and his stomach boils.

Screens expand over the furthermost wall. The neighboring ones completely engulfed with photos of Sakusa. Photos that may date farther back than he can even remember. Photos of him as a child, growing to maturity and living on his own. The distance alternates between a far reach and as close as right beside him. His spine shivers at the thought. 

Sakusa always knew _something_ was watching. He knew something was close but to this extent? He could never have fathomed. Reaching through a metal drawer he unclasps a leatherbound group of photos, placed in the far back. His heart drops at the contents. These photos were far more than intimate: they were incriminating.

There, under his trembling fingers, were photos of him with his victims- alive or not- along with photos of him disposing of their remains. His undistressed face, a clear harbinger of his tendencies. 

Bile bubbles in his chest. The back of his throat burns. The room is suffocating, closing in on him from the sides. Sakusa stumbles over his feet and crashes to his knees. _I knew it._

The red string of fate laces its way through his memories. 

The text notification of his door opening on a late night out. The wet toothbrush in its holder. The neighbors’ bruised and broken bodies, ruled as an unknown cause. The way Atsumu knew his way around his home. His ability to “guess” where Sakusa stores his belongings was uncanny. Until now. He knew. His coiled emotions unravel at the seams. 

Why is it so _hard_ for him to love?

In a pile of his own flesh, Sakusa curls onto the floor of an unfamiliar apartment with too familiar demons ripping through his mind.

* * *

  
  
  


“Good Morning.” Sakusa’s tone is weak and shaky.

One look at the approaching figure and Atsumu’s heart shatters on the table. Sakusa is trembling, his bruised lips splitting from the abuse bore from his teeth. His posture, once elegant and regal, now slumped and poor. His face is gaunt and the corners of his eyes prick a deep red. His loose curls are pulled tight into a pony affixed at the base of his neck. Dressed in all black, his pale skin peeks out from underneath.

“Omi-baby, lemme free, yeah? Lemme take care of ya.”

The room is still dim, the soft light coming from the kitchen illuminates both of them. The sun is barely crawling over the horizon, its soft glow oozing through the slits in the blinds, splitting Sakusa into different shades of orange and red as he makes his way towards the table. 

His steps proceed, the silence is unwavering. 

Reaching the right side of the table he collapses into a lone chair. The dogs remain by his side, curling up in between the gaps. Sakusa takes a deep breath, then finally speaks into his lap, refusing to look up. His hands grip at the tops of his knees.

“How long?”

Atsumu swallows. “...Omi…please.”

“How long Atsumu. Since when.”

His harsh tone cut into Atsumu’s heartstrings. His unfeeling voice leaves no room for affection. 

“Since before Christina Ito.”

Sakusa’s eyes quickly open, bulging from his face. Whipping his head upwards he locks eyes with the man laying completely defenseless and bound to his table. _Christina Ito, 23. That happened almost 5 years ago._ Sakusa’s mind began to race, the pressure closing in on his space. 

Atsumu could read him like a book. He knew what that look meant. How Sakusa’s mind was filtering through the possibilities.

“Omi.”

Silence.

Sakusa’s right knee began to bounce in rhythm with his tapping fingers, his teeth gnawing at his abused lips. Atsumu breaks the silence with a small whimper. 

“H-how’d- when’d ya find out.”

“Probably the same night as Ana. I get door alerts.” 

Sakusa relents, pressing his eyes into the meat of his palms. His chest is afire and his heart is diving into the catacombs of his stomach.

“l did it to protect you. I wanna take care of ya. Yer so used to bein’ on yer own, ya know? That leaves you vulnerable... What’d happen to ya if I wasn’t there? Hm?” 

Atsumu tugs at his binds. The rope chafes on his skin, making him wince. 

“Where did you find me, Atsumu.”

“Omi-”

The loud screech of a chair cuts him off. 

“Don’t fucking say that. Don’t call me that, fuck!” Raking his fingers through his scalp, Sakusa sucks in a sharp breath.

“Please, listen to me. I did it to make ya happy, how else was I supposed to make ya smile? Baby-”

His voice wet, guilt building in his throat.

“Who even are you!? Is this the real you? Did you think it was fun to play with me like that?!”

“I’ve been nothing but real, ya know that ya know ME!”

“I don’t know you at all! The neighbors? I knew they wouldn’t just off themselves like that, they just had a kid! Atsumu!”

“I did it for you!”

“I never asked for that! I never asked for _this_!”

Sakusa screams, sobbing, his voice cracking with emotion. His eyes are webbed with rage. The tears stream down his face. His sinuses leaking from his nose. He wipes them away with his shirt. 

“Ya didn’t have to, Omi. I know ya needed it. I know ya need me! I would do anything fer ya. I would die right now for ya!”

“YOU, don’t know anything. I can’t- we can’t, this is enough. I don’t want to do this anymore, I don’t want to see you anymore. You know too much. You _are_ too much!”

“ **But I love you** , I love you Kiyoomi, so fucking much. Please I need you, we need each other. If ya don’t forgive me I’d rather die!”

Atsumu sobs, completely overcome, spilling into his words. Endless sniffles do nothing to hold back the relentless flow. Tightly woven knuckles burn white- fingernails cutting into swollen palms. Unruly hair is matted to his forehead and sticking to the back of his neck. 

Standing up abruptly, Sakusa leans over Atsumu. His hair loosens from the grip of the hair tie and falls softly, covering his face. The look of betrayal will be burned into Atsumu’s vision for eternity. The tears are dripping down onto his chest. Sakusa screams, his voice is hoarse and raspy.

“ **And I loved you**! I loved you with everything, all of me, even though I knew. I knew it couldn’t be true! I loved you so much it hurt. Love isn’t supposed to hurt Atsumu, but ours does!”

Metal scratches loudly across the table, echoing in the room. The scent of iron permeates the space. The crack of bone is loud, the wails of desperation even louder. Spilling red through his fingers, it pools over the wrinkles in the plastic. Droplets spray across the room, finding purchase on the photos pasted to the walls.

Smiling faces and domestic life stained in crimson red.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


His splitting headache is screeching at him with every movement, and Atsumu rubs the sore spots on his body before standing up off the couch. Gwen remains in the far reach of the kitchen, innocently crunching on kibble. There is no light streaming into the room with how late it’s gotten. Looking at the clock above the counter, Atsumu notes that it’s almost the next day. He’s fully clothed and completely clean. There is a fresh gauze plastered to the top of his head. His body carries twice its weight in emotional burden as he trudges to the bathroom. 

_Omi._

Staring at himself in the mirror, he notes the bits of purple peeking from underneath his clothes. The signs of struggle against his binds are evident. His tear-stained eyes are bright red and raw. His swollen forehead and skull radiate sharp waves of pain. Around the gauze are uncovered splits to his skull. One look and you might not recognize him.

Crossing the hall into the backroom he stops dead in his tracks. The door leading to his surveillance room is ajar; the lock busted. Adrenaline surges through his veins and he rushes forward, dreading what he’s about to find. Sure enough, his entire setup has vanished. Every hard and digital copy of all of his endeavors has vanished into thin air. In a panic he starts to pace the room, shoveling through endless empty drawers. Memories, one after another no longer present. 

Patting his pockets for his phone, his anxiety peeks when he notices he has no contacts or data saved. A clean sweep. Omi has washed Atsumu’s unreluctant hands of any ties with him. His background remains the same, glaring at him ironically, a photo of his high school banner. 

We don’t need memories. 

_Fuckfuckfuck. Don't do this to me Omi-baby, please. Ya need me please, please._ _Don’t leave me like this._

His panic makes him collapse over the counter, the cool marble doing very little to soothe the anxiety.

Three knocks on the door pull him out of his stupor. Rushing Gwen aside he quickly heads to the door, his socked feet thudding against the polished wood.

_Omi._

Fussing with the locks he prays for black hair and pale skin to be on the other side. Unfortunately, in desperately whipping the door open, the culmination of this nonstop nightmare has revealed itself. Freezing cold air almost knocks him back before the realization of what is at his door hits him.

“Hi, Miya Atsum- Oh man, you look beat up, you get that checked out?”

“Yeah?”

“My name is Officer Sawamura, we’d like to ask you a couple of questions down at the station.”

“What are ya talkin’ about? I don’t have time fer this.”

Atsumu rushes back, attempting to close the door. A loud clunk startles him and he looks down to see Sawamura’s steel-toed boot poking through the frame. A stern look is aimed at him through the crack and his voice is almost a growl.

“Sir, that wasn’t a request. Please come with us voluntarily to the station, or we’ll have to detain you.”

Hours tick away on the big clock. His nerves are tense, the fragile cords of his sanity threatening to snap. The hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention, collecting the beading sweat and his throat remains parched as his accusers drone on. 

“An anonymous call claiming a man of your height and stature was seen making their way from where the incident took place, almost exactly, at the same time that the cameras show you came home. So, where were you that evening?”

Officer Sawamura swirls his coffee, expecting a fib from the start. His fierce stare ready to notice any hesitation. However, lying comes to Atsumu like fish to water. 

“I was working at the harbor and came back late.”

“Do you drive?”

“No. Why?” His questioning tone raises slightly. 

“Do you normally take public transport?”

“Yeah.”

A satisfied grin briefly glints across the officer’s lips. 

“Looking along the route there are only a few bus stops near that area. The closest one to your apartment being a mere hundred meters or so from the scene of the crime. I’m assuming you walked home from here?”

He points to the stop closest in proximity to the large X drastically bold in a bright red, unmistakably the point of interest.

“That’s what yer dragging me here in the dead of the night for? A hundred meters? Yer fuckin’ ridiculous. Ya think I did that!?” Atsumu throws his arms up in protest. 

“Calm down sir, not once have we stated that you were a suspect in this investigation. We are only asking a few simple questions.” 

“And what do I have to do with all of it?”

“Did you pass by anyone?”

“No.”

“Did you see anyone, maybe a young woman?” His eyebrows rising in question. 

“Look I don’t know what ya think happened but I got off here, to go to this convenience store. I didn’t see anyone and I think it’s stupid that ya hauled my ass here off of one anonymous phone call!”

Atsumu presses his finger into the map scowling at the officer across from him. 

“Sir calm down.”

“I am calm!”

Atsumu clutches his fists tightly. His own voice rings in his ears. Clenching his jaw, Atsumu fends off the pain with sheer willpower. Their questions go on and only cease when another officer whispers some information to Officer Sawamura. 

“Sir, it looks like you have been cleared of any suspicion in this matter.”

“Well la di da, I already knew that. Ya didn’t even tell me why I was here!”

“Sir, we are investigating a young woman’s death at this exact location. If you have any information regarding anything you might have seen, please reach out to us here. We apologize for taking up your time.”

The metal chair screeches against the tile as the officers convene behind their desks. Bowing deeply for the inconvenience they were causing him they began escorting him to the exit. Apparently a third camera clocked him at a convenience store around the same time the incident would have taken place. 

_Figures. Those useless pigs._

Atsumu is flabbergasted, they have the audacity to accuse him and then remit those claims as if he was not being held here for hours? Announcing his leave he breaks away from the chaos. Of course, it wasn’t him. 

Suzuki Ana, Omi’s last kill. A sloppy push from the bridge too obvious to hide and too close to home. Stepping out into the dark expanse of the night, Atsumu sighs into his hands. 

He feels like his entire life is slipping through his fingers. It doesn’t take him long to connect the dots. The trail only has one entrance and one exit. 

_Omi did this on purpose. To get away from me. Omi is gonna leave me like they all do._

His mind clouds over, the concussion beginning to weigh on his ability to focus. Atsumu sits slumped in a plastic chair bound by words, swaying in an attempt to keep upright. Despite the physical burden, his mind remains elsewhere.

Rushing back to his apartment building, he frantically presses the code to Omi’s apartment. The pad flashes a mocking red: the code is incorrect. _Shit._ Ripping through his pockets, Atsumu grasps at the emergency key, jamming it into the lock and yanking the door open. The apartment bursts into light. Barren. Dust glints like confetti in the moonlight and onto the polished floor. 

Atsumu crumbles to his knees. In a pile of his own flesh, he curls onto the floor of a familiar apartment with unfamiliar demons ripping through his mind. Like he never was there, the remnants of his beloved remain only in his mind.

Sakusa Kiyoomi was a ghost Atsumu could no longer haunt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it love?
> 
> Thank you so much for following the journey here. I am so so forever grateful for all of your screaming. The epilogue will follow soon. 
> 
> Your comments of agony give me life juice. I hope this ride although wild has been fun for you!


	6. Hisashiburi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my lovely beta readers [Jordan ](https://twitter.com/u_suspend) and [Ren](https://twitter.com/bokutowl12) on Twitter!
> 
> I can't believe this is the last one!

  
  


Atsumu has devoted a better part of a year to scouring several newspaper articles and social media posts in search of his ebony-haired Adonis, but to no avail. Desperation feeds to loneliness and Atsumu lay emotionally bare, grieving over the loss of the love of his life. Sakusa is gone and there is no hope for their life together. He spends his days wallowing in his uncomfortably roomy apartment, attempting to pick up the pieces of himself. 

Biding time at his local convenience store, Atsumu sits at the counter scrolling over the news and related events. The bright sun pierces through the glass and makes him squint at his phone, killing time by scrolling through social media. He does one last swipe on his timeline and then freezes, attention caught by the article that just pulled up. Four missing persons and two semi-whole bodies were found in the large city of Seoul, South Korea. Cold shivers grace down his spine. The remains, all found in separate locations, are completely sterile, with no physical evidence available. Atsumu swallows his rice before reading on, his heartbeat racing. The predator took caution in expertly dismantling and precariously wrapping them, discarding the remains in several trash receptacles as a forensic countermeasure. Full corpses were unable to be found. It’s slightly sloppy, but unmistakable. 

_ Omi. Ya wanna play again? _

Atsumu knows. He knows that this is Omi’s call for attention. That his Omi is extending the olive branch and it is once again up to Atsumu to settle the dispute. All couples fight, their fights are just  _ different _ . Gathering his things, Atsumu heads for the door. The ping of the bells rings behind him as he rushes out of the store, a devilish grin spreading across his face. 

_ I’m on my way, baby.  _

* * *

  
  


Korea is no joke. Immigrating over a whim is not the wisest decision, all things considered. Opting for an easier route, Atsumu flies over on a sightseeing excursion. What is he viewing? Definitely not the Namsan Tower. 

Atsumu has to know, he needs to see it for himself. 

Arriving at the Incheon International Airport, he rolls his carry on through the gates, and the game of hide and seek is on.

Atsumu follows the details of the crime report and finds his way to each hotspot, where he loiters around local parks and stretches of greenery in wait for a tall, black-haired Japanese man. It’s a long shot; he can’t be right all the time. But Atsumu feels it, he can feel the string of destiny pulling him to the bank of the Han River. He can sense Sakusa’s presence in the breeze. And after a week of patiently watching and waiting, trusting his intuition finally reaps a reward. 

It’s a bright, breezy day, one of the last of his spontaneous trip when Atsumu decides to try the Ttukseom Han River Park for the last time. Donning his signature cap and jeans, he walks along the banking and eyeballs any tall, dark-haired men he comes across along the way. It’s a couple of hours before his heart suddenly skips a beat without warning. His breath halts and his carefree nature dissipates, replacing his lax attitude with complete focus. Walking Masumi along the railed sidewalk is his Omi; his long gate and confident air reemerging. It took all of Atsumu’s willpower to not jump from the shadows of the rustling tree he remains flush against and approach him immediately, but he needs to make sure. He needs it to be the right time.

So he waits. 

He covers his passport with stamps while waiting, watching. The cold fingers of winter release their grip as spring thaws his emotions. 

Tailing Sakusa reinvigorates him. Atsumu always feels the most alive when he is watching Sakusa live his daily life, completely unaware of his presence. Sakusa is the same: a jog in the morning, a normal office job, and a booming social life on the weekends. It is almost as if his time with Atsumu had never happened. 

It hurts. 

Atsumu’s chest burns with guilt. Did he deserve to come barreling back into his life? Does he make Omi happy? Is their love not enough? These questions plague his mind, his emotions racing and that’s when he sees it.

An uncharacteristically glazed stare, two seconds too long. Atsumu’s clothes adorning Sakusa’s body on a lazy day in. A stray tear slipping down a pale cheek, before being swept away, the door closing to the outside world. 

This Sakusa is fake. Atsumu knows that. This streams through his consciousness every time he peers through the cracks in Sakusa’s blinds. His visits are nightly and rush a sense of nostalgia through his veins as he watches Sakusa filter through his home. 

Atsumu normally watches and smiles at the small habits Sakusa seems to have picked up from their intimate times together. But tonight is different, on this dark night, Sakusa lays completely still, clutching at his chest, his back flat on the floor while he sobs. Why is he sad? Isn’t this what he wanted?. 

The killings. They have little to no meaning and this isn’t normal. The process remains the same, however, the reasoning holds no ground in Sakusa’s eyes. His methods of disposal became sloppier as more and more body parts are found with each successive kill. The clues only Atsumu would see, only Atsumu would understand. 

_ I mean a foreigner, Omi-baby? That’s just messy.  _

It’s for Atsumu. Sakusa is calling for help. Calling for him. And Atsumu will be there when he needs it the most.

For  _ his _ Omi.

* * *

Sakusa’s legs lead him toward the inevitable, his cowardice winning over his need for affection. The pressure from the authorities doubled the weight of stress he was not willing to bear the burden for. So he runs, and he runs. Escaping from the grips of commitment, escaping from  _ him _ .

The daylight is warm on his skin, the air is crisp and calm. The river laps softly at the bank. The move is perfect. It is everything Sakusa needs to uproot his life and start anew. So why is he so sad? Why does he spend countless nights curled over himself in depression? Why does he find himself crying randomly? 

_ Atsumu.  _

Does he even want to be with Sakusa after being abandoned in such a cruel way? His thoughts cloud his judgment and make his emotions uncoordinated. His breadcrumbs of hope litter the news, calling for a certain amber-eyed man to step back into his life. It’s a game of cat and mouse and Sakusa has never felt so small. 

  
  


His thoughts remain muddled as Masumi yanks on her leash and the metal of her collar pulls tightly, clanking around. Looking down, Sakusa is surprised to see her excitement. Much like him, she was also missing a part of herself, missing Gwen and missing Atsumu. She must have caught a whiff of a squirrel? 

His steps are heavy as he continues along the bank. His mind is still filtering through endless scenarios and decisions and Sakusa is completely unaware of his surroundings. That is until a large body suddenly collides with his. An enthusiastic pile of soft white and tan fur sprawled over his chest as he huffs in pain. 

The dog must have gotten loose from its owner. Sakusa makes to grab the loose leash, when suddenly, a telltale howl pulls his attention and looking right at him is Gwen. There can be no mistake. He would never take those honeyed eyes for granted. Confusion sets in, followed quickly by excitement. 

No way.

Pulling their leashes together, he makes to get up but stumbles back down when the two dogs fumble over each other again. It’s breezy and he can hear the ferry boat bubbling in the distance. His emotions are on a rollercoaster and the sensation is overwhelming. He feels anxious and unsure: the unknown beckons.

Like a lullaby to his cries, a familiar voice reaches his ears, and Sakusa can’t help but smirk. Reaching a warm hand out to help him up, a man with a bright smile and shiny blonde hair tugs him to his feet. The tension is nonexistent and their understanding silent.

“It’s been a while, Omi.”

“Yeah, took you long enough, Atsumu.”

-Fin-

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please check out these two arts of this fic on Twitter by [Nia ](https://twitter.com/bokutosayswhaat/status/1342682119735304193?s=20) and [ Nat ](https://twitter.com/illuminati_png/status/1342965634636931073?s=20)!!!!
> 
> You voted on Twitter for "It’s been a while", leading to this ending!!
> 
> Thank you so so much for hopping into this crazy ride. Please let me know what you thought in the comments below!!! 
> 
> See you on the other side! - May

**Author's Note:**

> [Twitter! ](https://twitter.com/sakusasmask504)


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